by M. R. Forbes
TWENTY
They returned to the first level of the base. The shooting stopped by the time they reached the stairs, and they paused to listen. It was silent for a few moments before the enemy footsteps could be heard once more.
"He didn't get all of them," Soon said.
"We should get out of here," Iwu said. "That's what he wanted."
"Did you check the passage?" Donovan asked her.
"What passage?"
"The one in the General's office."
"No. I didn't know there was one."
"Then I'm not leaving. I need to know."
Rodriguez told him his mother was likely dead, and he knew it was true. Why did he have to go back to look for himself? What was the reason?
He had already lost Matteo. He wouldn't abandon her. Not if there was any chance she was alive. That was the reason. That was what he told himself.
"He died to get us out," Iwu said.
"He was going to die anyway," Donovan said. "We'll have a better defensive position from the General's office. And an escape route."
"Donovan," Diaz said, appearing from the corridor on their left.
He whipped his head around, his heart jumping. He had been so focused on listening to the Dread on the stairs he hadn't heard her coming. Stupid.
Ehri appeared beside her a moment later.
"We destroyed a squad of clone soldiers trying to get into the base," Ehri said. She froze for a second. "There are more already here?"
"Yes. They followed General Rodriguez back. I guess the Domo'dahm didn't want him to get away."
"Where is the General?"
"Dead," Iwu said.
"The Domo'dahm isn't behind this. One of the pur'dahm perhaps, trying to make a good impression. Ulr'ek or Dur'rek, I bet. If the pur'dahm could capture the General and interrogate him for information about the other resistance leaders, it would allow him to move up a cell."
"So it was a trap?" Soon said.
"Yes, but not for us. Even so, we must leave this area."
"We will. I need to finish what I started here. I need to know if she's dead or not."
"I understand."
"We've got the numbers. We should take care of this group. Soon, you and Diaz take position over there. Ehri, Doc Iwu, and I will wait there. We'll catch them in a crossfire when they come out of the stairwell."
"Yes, sir," Soon and Diaz said, backing up into the corridor.
Donovan retreated to the side, along the same wall as the stairs, positioning himself in front of Doctor Iwu.
Then they waited.
The three remaining Dread clones reached the top of the stairwell a minute later, moving out onto the floor without noticing the gathered rebel soldiers right away. By the time they did, it was too late. Bolts from both sides tore into them, dropping them in the space of a single breath.
"Nice work," Donovan said, stepping over the dead clones. "I guess it would have been too much to ask for the pur'dahm behind this to do the dirty work."
"Neither of those pur'dahm are Hunters," Ehri said. "They are strategists. Politicians."
"This is a game to them?"
"In the sense that they are jockeying for position within a traditional ranking system, perhaps. There is nothing jovial about it."
They returned to Rodriguez's office. Donovan felt the same fear and anxiety bubbling up a second time as he entered the room. Until he saw her, there was a chance she had gotten away. He needed to know.
He circled the desk, reaching the open passage. He didn't hesitate, pushing it open wider so he could fit through and allow more light to filter in.
Nothing. There was nothing. Where were they?
He looked back at the others. They were waiting for him to make a decision. Should they follow the passage and keep seeking his mother and the children, or should they head back out through the silo? There were no guarantees either way, but the silo was definitely the shorter escape route.
Diaz had lost Matteo and kept going. She hadn't insisted that they find him, as much as he was sure she wanted to. She knew that wasn't the world they lived in. He knew it, too. He didn't have to like it.
He did have to accept it.
All of these people were looking for him to lead them and to keep their small part of the resistance going. They had gotten the weapon to General St. Martin. Now their job was to get the ground forces ready. They had to rendezvous with the rebels in Austin and reconnect with the larger forces, before the bek'hai turned those forces into scattered remains like they had done here.
Maybe Ehri understood why he wanted to find his mother. That didn't mean it was the right decision. Not now.
"It's time to go," he said, leaving the passage and heading back the way they had come.
TWENTY-ONE
"Lor'dahm Zoelle," Tea'va said, looking down at the clone from his position on the command dais.
"Dahm Tea'va," Zoelle said, lowering her head to her chest. "I am at your service."
"Ilk'ash spoke very highly of you before I had him retired."
Tea'va watched the clone carefully, studying her reaction to the news. She flinched slightly but otherwise remained in place.
"I would be honored to prove my worth to you, Dahm."
Tea'va almost smiled at the response. It nearly sounded sincere.
"Tell me, Lor'dahm. Were you practicing copulation with Ilk'ash?"
"Dahm?" she raised her head only slightly, maintaining respect. "I do not know what this means?"
"Were you ever unclothed with him?"
"No, Dahm. Why would I do such a thing?"
Tea'va stood. He was pleased with her response. She didn't know that had she answered differently, he would have killed her as well. "Why, indeed?" He made his way from the dais, reaching the level of the deck and standing in front of her. "Look at my face."
Zoelle raised her head, looking up at him. Tea'va had never been this close to an un'hai before. He stared at her features. Her soft, pale skin, her blue eyes. She had a smell of Earth. Flowers and spices. Did the humans think she was a pretty thing?
He didn't.
"Ilk'ash also told me that you were unable to calculate the human starship's slip trajectory in time to follow. You and your team. Is this correct?"
She didn't buckle under the statement. "Yes, Dahm."
"Why not?"
"We failed, Dahm. We were not prepared."
Tea'va smiled. She didn't react to his crooked grin either. "Your honesty is refreshing."
"The Lore of the Bek'hai demands honesty from a lor'hai, Dahm."
It was true that their laws put this burden on clones. It was also true that few enough of them followed it. Especially the un'hai. Even after fifty years of modification, they remained willful.
"Have you since calculated the trajectory?" Tea'va asked. It was intended to be the last question he had that would decide whether or not he replaced her, but he had already decided. He would keep this one. She was properly obedient, even if her team was not adequately intelligent.
"We have, Dahm. The slipstream has a powerful course through the planet. Once the gravitational effects are factored in, the wave will have carried them approximately six hundred light years from this location, if they rode it to its terminus. Based on the calculated wave velocity and the distortion of the accelerated stream, there is a ninety-eight percent likelihood that they did."
"They will have gone beyond the limits of the stream's ability to carry them. Are there other streams they can join to vector away, or can we follow?"
"We can follow, Dahm Tea'va. Most of the way."
"Most?" he shouted, losing control of his temper. He clenched his jaw. "Most?" he repeated more quietly. He noticed Gr'el was watching him with intense interest. Tea'va knew the pur'dahm would seize any sign of weakness he could find. He had to get his emotions under control.
"As you know, the slipstream wave strength is variable. We would be required to remain stationary for six Earth days to join
a stream that is of equivalent power."
"We can't afford to wait six days," Tea'va said. "How close can we get?"
"Within one hundred light years, Dahm," Zoelle said, remaining calm.
Tea'va nearly shouted again. He held his tongue.
"That distance might as well be six hundred light years," he said.
"Perhaps we should consider a different approach?" Gr'el said.
Tea'va didn't want to listen to his Si'dahm. It would look bad to the Domo'dahm if he didn't entertain the pur'dahm's words.
"What do you suggest?"
"We seek out the human settlement," Gr'el said. "We know from our scans of the smaller craft we destroyed that they have a limited range. I am certain with the help of the complete science cell we can limit the possible locations. We can destroy the remaining colony, and then wait for the starship to return."
"And what if they don't return?" Tea'va asked. "What if they choose to go back to Earth?"
"Why would they do that? They may have escaped with our technology, but they would still need to be able to integrate it with their ship. One ship, against all of ours."
"One ship that has escaped us twice already. The Heil'shur, who has evaded our defenses over fifty times. Do not underestimate them, Gr'el. That is why they got away to begin with."
"One hundred light years, Tea'va. You cannot argue with pure mathematics."
"If I might, Si'dahm," Zoelle said.
"Go ahead," Tea'va said, not waiting for Gr'el to answer her.
"I have already plotted a course that will bring us close to our most accurate estimate of their position, a system we have charted as Pol'tik. We believe this is where their slipstream typically fades."
"How many streams?" Gr'el asked.
"Fourteen."
"Fourteen?" the pur'dahm replied in disbelief. "It isn't possible for you to accurately calculate the relative positions of fourteen streams."
"Of course, the timing is not perfect, Si'dahm, due to the variable nature of the waves, but I have chosen a course that remains highly stable. The risk is minimal."
"Would you be willing to put your life on it?" Gr'el asked.
Zoelle didn't look at him. She looked at Tea'va instead, keeping her eyes locked on his. There was no fear in them, only confidence.
"We were not prepared before, Dahm. We are prepared now."
"What is the time in slipspace?"
"Four hundred thirty-two to four-hundred eighty hours."
"Dahm Tea'va, you can't," Gr'el said. "Both the lor'hai and the drumhr will become sick."
"Do you want to advance in the cell, Gr'el?"
"Yes."
"With risk comes reward. We will either return to the Domo'dahm as victors, or we will not return at all."
Gr'el lowered his head, surprising Tea'va with the strength of his submission. The pur'dahm understood the game better than he had even thought. "Yes, Dahm."
"Enter the calculations, Lor'dahm Zoelle. We will depart as soon as they are verified."
"Yes, Dahm Tea'va."
"You are dismissed."
Zoelle lowered her head to him, spinning on her heel at the same time and heading for the exit. The lor'hai that composed the rest of the bridge crew watched her from the corner of their eyes. Tea'va could see their interest there. Their longing. It was revolting. He decided he would meet her in private next time, so he wouldn't have to look at it. Nor would he have to deal with Gr'el's opinions.
"Dahm Tea'va," Gr'el said. "A word?"
"Yes, Si'dahm?" Tea'va said.
"I too would like to move up in the cell, and destroying the humans will be the impetus that will allow this to occur. As you are well aware, I am currently behind Orish'ek to replace Rorn'el on his retirement. I'm certain you also understand what that makes you and me."
Tea'va did understand. It was a delicate game they played. If they succeeded, Orish'ek would be out of the picture, but as commander of the Ishur, it would be Tea'va who took his place, leaving Gr'el still in the second position. At the same time, Gr'el couldn't sabotage the mission, or he would lose his place altogether. It meant that his Si'dahm would be plotting against him, even as they were working together. The pur'dahm was being gracious in warning him of his intentions, though Tea'va didn't need the warning.
"As I said, Gr'el. With risk comes reward. One of us will gain Rorn'el's position when he retires. The other will be dead."
TWENTY-TWO
"My great-grandfather grew up here," Diaz said, her eyes scanning the scattered ruins of the city.
"San Luis Potosi," Ehri said. "Population four million at the time of the invasion."
"Your invasion," Diaz said.
"Not hers," Donovan replied. "The bek'hai. Ehri didn't exist before they arrived. It's ignorant to blame someone for something they didn't do."
Diaz glared at Donovan. Ehri raised her hand, playing peacemaker. "It is human nature, Major. Racial inequality persisted for centuries because of the sins of your forefathers. Besides, I'm willing to accept the derision."
"You shouldn't have to deal with derision," Donovan said, glaring back at Diaz. "Especially from your allies."
He didn't blame Diaz for her mood. They were all in poor spirits, after having spent the last twenty days on the road from Mexico. It was a grueling journey, slowed by their need to travel on foot, slowed even more by the frequent flyovers the Dread were making in an attempt to locate them. They had covered a little over four hundred kilometers in that time. It was a snail's pace as far as a Donovan was concerned, and it left him worried on a daily basis that the war would be over and lost before they ever arrived at the resistance base in Austin.
If there was still a resistance base to arrive at.
The pace was only one of their problems. The weather hadn't been favorable, the onset of summer leading into rising temperatures, high humidity, and an overabundance of mosquitos. They were fortunate malaria, and other insect-borne illnesses had been stamped out years ago. The loss of so many humans had given nature a chance to rebound, and the mosquito population was no different. While the Dread clothing made most of their bodies immune, their hands, necks, and faces were still exposed and had been fed upon freely. The summer weather had also brought the rain, daily thunderstorms and downpours that benefitted them by making them difficult for the Dread to track, but also left them constantly damp.
They had reached the outskirts of the city the night before, waiting until the sun had ridden high before moving into the ruins. It meant dealing with the heat, but that was better than dealing with the Dread, who they had found tended to avoid the direct sunlight when they could. Ehri had said the intensity would degrade their armor faster, reducing its effective lifespan from two thousand years to closer to eighteen hundred. Donovan had thought she was joking at first. She had reminded him to try not to think like a human. For a race the age of the bek'hai, such things were worth consideration.
While potable water had been easy to capture thanks to the heavy rains, food had been a different story. They had hurried away from the silo without pausing to take any of the stockpiled food, though Diaz had insisted on pausing at the Collection to locate the teddy bear her father had given her when she was only three years old. The plasma rifles they carried were useless for hunting, which had meant spending time every day foraging as best they could, or in some cases going hungry. None of them had been carrying a lot of extra weight when they had started the walk. Now they were all as lean as they could be.
"Where did he live?" Soon asked.
"My great-grandfather?" Diaz replied.
"Yes."
"Near the city center, close to the Barrio de San Sebastian. He died in the invasion. My mother told me he urged her father to get her away from the city when the news reports of the Dread ships started coming in. He practically threw them out himself." She smiled at the memory. "I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for him."
"It's still hard to look at," Soon said.
&nbs
p; "It doesn't get easier," Donovan replied. "You tell yourself that you get used to it, but you don't. Our world isn't supposed to look like this."
Soon stared at the city. His initial wonder and intrigue over the planet had faded within the first few days, replaced with the cold, hard reality of not only what had occurred, but also how it was still affecting them all today. He had nearly come to tears as they had walked along the side of the highway, where hundreds of old cars had come to a final rest and the wild around them had started to cover it over. Some of the cars had bodies in them. Few carried any food. There had been so little time to try to escape, and the Dread had seen to it that they hadn't.
Donovan had talked to the pilot at length about that reality and how it compared to life at the human settlement on Calawan. They had wound up both agreeing they would rather be there than here, where freedom was a constant, daily battle, and usually meant little more than bare survival.
They had talked about other things as well, and most importantly about General St. Martin and his son, Gabriel. Soon had nothing but praises for both of the men, and firm conviction that not only would they return, but when they did the Dread would be truly challenged for the first time since their arrival. Soon had told him that the New Earth Alliance had a fighting force at their settlement, one that had been raised to wage war against the Dread. Once they could arm them properly, it would only be a matter of time.
"There's no use crying about it," Diaz said, moving ahead of them. "Don't get sad. Get even."
She hopped over a small, half crumbled wall, vanishing behind the uneven ground. The tip of her rifle appeared a moment later, signaling that she had expected the drop.
"This way," she said.
Donovan motioned for the rest of them to follow. For all Diaz's talk, she seemed to be taking their current situation the hardest. She had always been tough, but she had also managed to maintain some edge of softness, a genuine heart that beamed through the hardened exterior. Donovan had watched that light fade into a constant, desperate anger. She wanted to reach Austin. She wanted to get the weapons in the hands of someone who might be able to decipher them from the ground. She didn't want to depend on anyone else. Not General St. Martin, and not even him.
